<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Day Twenty-Eight: "You have to let me go" by OBlossom</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29770713">Day Twenty-Eight: "You have to let me go"</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OBlossom/pseuds/OBlossom'>OBlossom</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Febuwhump 2021 [28]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adrian Toomes is Insane, FebuWhump2021, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, IronDad and SpiderSon, May Parker (Spider-Man) Needs a Hug, Mr. Harrington is a good teacher, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, TW: School Lockdown, TW: School Shooter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:01:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,745</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29770713</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OBlossom/pseuds/OBlossom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Attention all staff and students. We are in lockdown. This is not a drill. Please initiate all lockdown procedures. I repeat, we are in lockdown. This is not a drill.”</p><p>There was barely a second between the end of the announcement and Mister Harrington jumping into action. He ushered some of his students into the corner of the room while directing one to cover the window in the door and others to push and stack tables in front of the now locked door.</p><p>It was something out of an alternate reality. </p><p>Peter looked at Ned, who was wide eyed and terrified, but determined. “What do we do, Peter?” Peter shrugged helplessly and led Ned to the corner with all the others as he tried to think. </p><p>Honestly, Peter wasn’t sure what to do. He and Mr. Stark had never really talked about lockdowns. It was always aliens and robberies and the like, so it seemed he needed to figure this one out on his own.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>May Parker (Spider-Man) &amp; Peter Parker, Ned Leeds &amp; Peter Parker, Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark, Roger Harrington &amp; Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Febuwhump 2021 [28]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138958</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>465</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Spider-Man Public Identity Reveal, The Best Peter Parker Whump Fics, febuwhump 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Day Twenty-Eight: "You have to let me go"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Here it is. The last one.</p><p>Enjoy</p><p>-Colleen xo</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Day 28: “you have to let me go”</p><p>The day felt like it was going to be significant, and Peter had no idea why. </p><p>There was a bit of a hum at the back of his neck and, while he was slowly but surely figuring out what all of the different sensations meant, he still had a lot to learn. The persistence of this one... Peter figured it was better to be safe than sorry.  He made a plan to text Mr. Stark on his way to school to tell him about it. </p><p>It would be fine.</p><p>He had showered, brushed his teeth and hair, put on a clean t-shirt, socks, and hoodie—and clean enough jeans that no one could tell either way.</p><p>He packed up his textbooks and the report he’d stay up far too late to finish, but what May didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. He tossed in a few loose pens for good measure and zipped up his fourth backpack of the year.  </p><p>He gave his Aunt May a kiss on the cheek as he passed her on his way to the kitchen and teased her about maybe bypassing the whole trying to cook thing and just ordering some pizza for dinner that night instead.</p><p>... and Peter was pretty sure that he’d told her that he loved her. Maybe? </p><p>He had his hand on the doorknob, ready to leave for the day when he felt it; that pesky reminder that he’d forgotten something important. He went back to his bedroom and looked around. In the jumble of ‘stuff’ on his desk, Peter spied a USB next to a couple of extra web fluid canisters. </p><p>The USB! They were working in the computer labs today and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to complete his assignment. He grabbed it off the desk and dropped it into his jeans pocket, ignoring the small canisters rolling onto the floor with a thud. </p><p>“Those had better not be web fluid canisters on the floor, Peter! You know the last time I brought laundry in there I kicked one and it exploded everywhere!”</p><p>That woman had hearing like a cat! “I’m picking it up right now, Aunt May!” he called back to her. He leaned to grab them and then caught a glimpse of the time. “Shit!” Peter shoved the canisters into his pocket and ran out of the apartment with a “Bye, May!” and headed off to catch the subway. </p><p>He never did get around to texting Mr. Stark.</p><p>* * * * * *</p><p>Peter was pretty sure he’d fall asleep if this went on much longer. Mr. Harrington was his favourite teacher, but the past few weeks had been filled with universities and colleges blitzing the school with recruiters and extracurriculars meant to entice students to their particular campuses. They just made Peter’s head want to explode... and here they sat with Mr. Harrington currently trying to push another one. </p><p>“... and so, if you are truly interested in stoichiometry, please come see me after class for information on some of the afterschool programs being run by Empire State Univ—“ Mr. Harrington was cut off by the blare of the PA system.</p><p>“Attention all staff and students. We are in lockdown. This is not a drill. Please initiate all lockdown procedures. I repeat, we are in lockdown. This is not a drill.”</p><p>There was barely a second between the end of the announcement and Mister Harrington jumping into action. He ushered some of his students into the corner of the room while directing one to cover the window in the door and others to push and stack tables in front of the now locked door.</p><p>It was something out of an alternate reality. </p><p>Peter looked at Ned, who was wide eyed and terrified, but determined. “What do we do, Peter?” Peter shrugged and led Ned to the corner with all the others as he tried to think.</p><p>Honestly, Peter wasn’t sure what to do. He and Mr. Stark had never really talked about lockdowns. It was always aliens and robberies and the like, so it seemed he needed to figure this one out on his own.</p><p>Peter concentrated, trying to hear something to give him a clue, but the cacophony of scraping chairs and tables with the lows moans of fear and crying—whispered phone calls and ‘I love you, mom’s’... Peter shook off thoughts of May and focussed. And then the school was silent, save for a terrible hum—and one lone set of confident footsteps echoing through the hallway of Midtown School of Science and Technology. </p><p>He heard the gun. He heard it being cocked, a bullet entering its chamber—and for the overall stillness of the school, every single student and staff member heard when it was fired.</p><p>Gasps, screams, and cries of fear rang out and Peter had to work to tamp it down again. He could hear the gunmen. He was whispering something but what? </p><p>The teachers hushed their students, or tried and the soothing susurration helped him to hone in on what he needed.</p><p>“Come out, Spider-Man. I know you’re in here.” The voice sang out. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”</p><p>“Shit.” Peter exhaled a slow breath as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He pressed it into Ned’s hands. “Ned, call Mr. Stark and tell him what’s happening. If he doesn’t answer, call Happy. The gunman is here for Spider-Man.” Peter paid no heed to the students around them as he danced around his truth. That was a later problem. For now, he had to act. “I’m going to head him off.” </p><p>Ned nodded a ‘yes’ so Peter left him to it and crept back across the classroom to the backpack he’d abandoned when the tables were being moved. </p><p>“Peter!” Mr. Harrington whisper-yelled to the boy. “Get back here!”</p><p>Peter ignored the man, instead opening up the side pocket and retrieving his webshooters from the secret compartment behind his calculator and geometry set. The tension he’d been feeling settled, but only a little. He was no longer defenceless. Now he could help.</p><p>“Peter Parker!” Mr. Harrington was beside him. “Get back to the corner with the others!” He grabbed hold of Peter to drag him back if necessary, but Peter stood firm. “Please, Peter. Come back to the group.”</p><p>The awareness that everyone in the classroom was focussed on Mr. Harrington and Peter was not lost on him. Seventeen of his fellow classmates were about to know his best secret. </p><p>The gun cocked. A bullet entered the chamber... and it fired again. </p><p>“Mr. Harrington, please. You have to let me go.” Peter looked him in the eye and then, with a press of fingers and snap of the wrist, the stack of tables and chairs blocking the door were pulled away. “He’s here for me.”</p><p>Mr. Harrington blinked, looked toward the webbed up mass of office furniture, nodded, and then looked back to Peter. Something connected in his mind. “Washington, huh?”</p><p>Peter smiled a little smile, “Yessir.”  </p><p>Mr. Harrington shook his head, Peter thought in disbelief, but then he muttered, “I knew it.” A beat passed, and Mr. Harrington let go of his arm and took a determined stepped back. “Go... But be safe. Please.”</p><p>“I will—“ He turned and took in the faces of his fellow classmates. “You stay safe, too.”</p><p>The gun cocked. A bullet entered the chamber... and it fired a third time. </p><p>“Peee-ter.” He was taunting him. “I have you trapped in your own web. Come out, come out!”</p><p>Peter closed his eyes and tried to visualize where the voice was coming from. The background noise increased with each bullet fired. It was getting hard to focus again.</p><p>Peter had to figure it out on the fly. “Mr. Harrington, I’m going to seal the door, but be sure to put that back once I’m gone.” He gestured to the tables and chairs. </p><p>“We will.” </p><p>“Ned!” Peter brought his attention back to his Guy in the Chair, who was still on the phone. “Make sure they bring web solvent to get you out, okay?”</p><p> Ned covered the phone. “I will. And Mr. Stark says they’re five minutes out.”</p><p>Peter acknowledged that he’d heard and moved to the door. He took a moment to steel himself, nodded in determination, and then opened the door. He peeked his head out, did a quick scan to the left and then the right. There was no one in this hall. He tucked back into classroom, whispered a ‘good luck’ and then left the room behind. </p><p>He wondered if his classmates could hear the ‘thwip and release’—‘thwip and release’—‘thwip and release’ as he made his way down the hall sealing them all safely into their classrooms. He wondered if the gunman could hear.</p><p>The gun cocked. A bullet entered the chamber... and it fired a fourth time. </p><p>... and Peter noticed something he had missed before.</p><p>The gun cocked. A bullet entered the chamber... and it fired a fifth time. The sound of the bullet striking the concrete floor and sending shards and debris into the air then scattering across the floor was unmistakeable. In his mind, five shots had meant five dead until... there was no begging or pleading. There was only a muffled scream of terror, hyperventilating and nothing more. Peter was almost weak with gratitude that someone hadn’t died, but they were being tormented. </p><p>What the hell was going on?</p><p>Peter didn’t stop to reflect. He needed to secure the students still in their classes, but quick. This was too weird and he needed to know they were safe. He ran as he secured the doors he could access but then skidded to a halt before he reached the hallway intersection in front of the office. He had to be careful now.</p><p>He wished that he was in his suit. Droney would have been perfect for this moment. For now, he had to trust what his senses, both enhanced and spidey were telling him and hope he was getting it right. </p><p>He closed his eyes and tried to get a feel for what was going on around him.  Whoever this was, he was close. He could hear two faint heartbeats one so fast and the other...</p><p>And then he heard the PA system crackle to life again. This was intended for everyone now. “Peeeee-dro! This is getting old, kid. Come on out! If you do, I’ll let the other kiddos live.”</p><p>What in the ever lovin’ hell was Adrian Toomes doing at Midtown?</p><p>“That’s actually a lie.” He laughed maniacally. “You’re all gonna die, kids. You see, my daughter was going through a bit of a rough time and well, you all discarded her like trash, and her Daddy can’t let that slide. Not when the world treated her Daddy the same way.” The man was unhinged. The Snap had happened—half of the kids in the school didn’t even know who Liz or even who Toomes himself was!</p><p>He had to end this.</p><p>Peter could only sense that Mr. Toomes on the main floor—but the intercom was at the back of the office. He hoped with all his heart that the office staff was okay, but he also hoped that Mr. Toomes kept talking so Peter could secure the rest of the floor. He’d have to worry about how Mr. Toomes had gotten here later. He ducked low so he could remain hidden from sight and then dashed down the next hallway, sealing more and more students away from this insanity. </p><p>“And it was so hard to get her to open up! Do you know how that broke my heart? Hey, Peter Parker! Knowing that you had put me in jail and that because of YOU my own daughter was disappointed in me... wouldn’t come to ME! Her own damned father for help!”</p><p>The fourth hall was in his sight.</p><p>“Well, I’m gonna show her that her Daddy always has her back—‘cause, you remember what I said, Peter, don’t you? I told you! I'll kill you, Spider-Man and everyone that you love.”</p><p>What the hell was he planning on doing?</p><p>Peter’s spider-sense flared and he straightened up without a second thought. That he happened to be standing in front of the office window was neither here nor there. What mattered was that he now had a bird’s eye view of his Aunt May there in the main office; tied to a chair, hands bound behind her back, her mouth duct taped shut and Toomes pacing back toward the room the intercom was located in. </p><p>Again, the PA system came to life, “Pedro! C’mon! I made this stop special just for you! I’m gonna head out west after this, kid—go collect my Lizzy but first I have to make you pay.”</p><p>Peter and May locked eyes in that second. May’s eyes widened and she shook her head frantically.</p><p>His senses flared and Peter dropped back down to the ground.  </p><p>The gun cocked. A bullet entered the chamber... and it fired for a sixth time. Peter could hear May’s struggle against her bindings as she tried fruitlessly to escape Toomes.</p><p>“Struggle all you want, Aunt May. The brat will figure this out as soon as he’s done wasting his time trying to save his classmates,” he stated, ever so matter-of-factly.</p><p>Peter wondered briefly where the security monitors were. </p><p>“You’re all going to die.”  </p><p>Yeah, Peter needed to get her out and deal with this guy before someone got hurt.</p><p>He kept his head about him and waited for the sound of Toomes footsteps to head further back into the office again. His monologuing was giving Peter the opportunity he needed. He entered the office, slow and stealthy, grateful that the doors remained silent on their hinges. With a press of a finger to his lips, he told May to be quiet. Peter was going to take care of this.</p><p>He moved past Aunt May, giving her shoulder a squeeze of assurance as he walked by. He focussed only the hallway beyond that... and he focussed on Toomes.  </p><p>He was talking to himself as Peter approached. He muttered something about how Lizzy would be so happy to see him and that they could be a family again.</p><p>Toomes really thought he’d make it out of this and that was probably the craziest thing he could have said. He’d touched Aunt May... and even if Peter would leave him breathing, he wasn’t sure that Happy would give the same courtesy when all was said and done. Toomes would pay.</p><p>It was over before it started. Toomes had not done well in prison. Where he’d had the stature to match the wings all those years ago, he’d obviously not been snapped and time had not been kind to him. He was still dressed in his prison uniform, unclean, half starved, and his hands were covered in cuts and bandages. How long had he been on the run—and why hadn’t any of the Avengers told him about it?</p><p>Speaking of—it had to have been more than five minutes!</p><p>Peter disregarded the thought. He’d webbed the man up to the wall, called out an ‘I’ll be right there, Aunt May!’ and left him where he hanged so he could take care of his family. He started to catalogue what needed to be done, like dealing with the webbing sprayed all across the main floor, but he’d done his best but he...</p><p>Peter froze.</p><p>The bomb came into sight as he entered the main office from the back rooms. It had been tucked neatly under the chair May had been bound to, so he could justify missing it the first time. The dead man’s switch clutched in her shaking hands, though... </p><p>That wasn’t okay.</p><p>He needed to get Aunt May out of there. He needed to clear the building. He needed to...</p><p>Oh, shit.</p><p>He thought of the doors to each classroom sealed shut by his own hand and the bomb in the office only feet away from them.</p><p>What if he’d just killed them all?</p><p>He huffed out a quick breath. Peter couldn’t allow himself to think like that. He needed to pull it together and deal with this shit, now... and he needed to start with Aunt May. He pasted on a smile and came around so she could see him. “Okay.” He crouched in front of her. “I’m gonna pull this tape off and then I’m gonna tell you the plan, alright?” </p><p>She nodded frantically. </p><p>With a quick yank, he ripped the tape off. </p><p>Aunt May started talking immediately. “Peter, the bomb is chitauri. He’s got a timer on it! Oh, my--- how long is left on the timer?!” She started to squirm, but Peter remembered the switch in her hand. </p><p>“May, be still!” He urged her. “Tell me about the switch.” He smiled at her in encouragement.</p><p>“Oh, shit. I can’t let go of it, Peter or it’ll go before the timer!” She was becoming hysterical. “Get out! Please go—I can’t let anything happen to you!” </p><p>He displayed a calm he didn’t feel. “Hey, May, c’mon. I’m Spider-Man. This is like a Wednesday night to me.” He moved to the back of the chair and started checking out the bomb and trigger proper. “We’ll get this figured out and then the next thing you know, we’ll be eating pizza for dinner and teasing Happy about using a fork.” This was beyond him. Shit. She couldn’t know. “Does that sound like a plan?” </p><p>She nodded her head. “Yeah, that sounds great. Really great. But I was hoping for some Italian tonight... hoped Happy would cook...”</p><p>“I could go for that,” he kept it light. “As long as you don’t help, ‘kay?”</p><p>She nodded again, a little less frenzied. “Okay, I’ll leave my men to it, then.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>Peter looked at the set up, figured he could at least work a stop-gap and get May on her way to Happy and that Italian dinner. “Okay. May, I’m gonna use my webbing to keep the button you’re holding depressed, alright. Once I do that, I’ll get you off this chair and you can head out the front door, got it?”</p><p>She took a deep breath, “Yeah, I can do that.”</p><p>“Good, give me a sec.”</p><p>And that was all it took for him to get May’s hand off that damned device. </p><p>Peter thought, for a second, that maybe he could hurt Toomes after all.</p><p>He placed the detonator on the ground beside the bomb and made short work of getting a newly desperate May out of the seat. The idea of staying in that place for one more second was too much and she needed to go now.</p><p>She stood, stumbling only a little before she steadied herself, clutched at Peter’s hand, and started moving toward the office doors. </p><p>Peter let go.</p><p>May was confused. “Peter, c’mon! We have to go.”</p><p>Peter shook his head. “I have to take care of this, May. The school isn’t evacuated yet, and the bomb is set to go off in...” Peter looked at the timer for the first time. He tried not to choke. “Just over three minutes, Aunt May.”</p><p>She teared up, “No. You come with me now, young man. There are professionals out there who can deal with this. This isn’t on you.” </p><p>Peter looked at her so sadly. “They don’t know there’s a bomb. No one is here and I don’t know where the team is. You need to go. I can fix this, but you need to be safe.” He rushed forward and gave her a quick hug. “I need this from you, okay? This is just like a regular Wednesday night. I promise. Just tell them to move everyone back, okay?” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I love you... now go.” He gave her a gentle shove through the door. He paused only long enough to make sure she was heading to the front doors and then went back to the task. </p><p>Peter was a smart kid, like—really smart, and it wasn’t that he couldn’t come up with a solution. It was that his brain was stuck on the hundreds of kids he’d doomed with his cleverness. He stared at the timer ticking down, and thought of his aunt—how scared she’d been when she’d been so carefree and joyful only this morning, even as she razzed him about messy bedrooms and laundry. He was so grateful that he could at least get her out...</p><p>He’d gotten her out.</p><p>Holy shit! He’d gotten her out! And the laundry and web fluid cartridges! His hands shook as he dug through his jeans pocket and pulled out the two cartridges. He had, he checked the timer. He had exactly two minutes and sixteen... fifteen... fourteen... seconds to muffle the blast. </p><p>He prayed it was enough as he released every remaining drop of webbing over the bomb, and then tried not to fumble as he switched out the empty cartridges for new. By the time he’d emptied those, the bomb and the chair it had been hidden under resembled a massive boulder—and he tried not to be impressed with his genius.  </p><p>And then he hoped it worked.</p><p>He really liked it when Happy made Italian. </p><p>He closed his eyes and prayed.</p><p>And then...</p><p>There’s a saying that goes, ‘If energy can be neither created nor destroyed, then it must go somewhere.’ </p><p>Peter was pretty sure the quote was about death and life and all that existential stuff, but in that exact moment, it was about a bomb and the fact that the energy needed to go somewhere, so it did. </p><p>It went down. </p><p>The foundation of the building shook, walls and ceilings cracked, windows shattered, and the sprinkler system went off for about ten seconds for good measure...</p><p>But they were alive.</p><p>He ignored the shouts of rage coming from the crazy man webbed to a wall in an office.  He needed to finish what he’d started—get the students out, check on May and Ned and find out what the hell had happened to his back up!</p><p>And so he did with an urgency he’d not felt since Mr. Stark’s airplane and Coney Island.</p><p>He rushed through the hall and to the front doors of the school. He could see a contingent of local police and SHIELD agents scattered at the base of the short flight of stairs, and behind them, a growing number of students being pulled out the windows of both the main floor and second story classrooms—at least as far as he could tell from the fire engine extending its ladder toward the building. </p><p>He leaned against the wall, only feet from the door as his knees threatened to buckle in relief.</p><p>And then he saw Vision floating from above, clutching two students to his chest.</p><p>So they were there.</p><p>He rushed forward then, and then stopped, just as everyone outside of the school stopped and stared. </p><p>“There he is! It’s Spider-Man!” A girl he’d say ‘hey’ to in the hallway suddenly shouted out, and Peter stepped back. </p><p>He’d forgotten. </p><p>He’d forgotten that they knew and he’d have to hide and —</p><p>The thought was interrupted by the smattering of claps and whistles... that grew to a respectable volume... then grew to a thunderous applause from his classmates, teachers, and police and firefighters alike, and that overwhelmed the boy who’d only been trying to help after... </p><p>He didn’t know what to do.</p><p>Mr. Stark, in full Iron Man suit save for the faceplate, climbed up the stairs then, and stood in front of him. He gripped him by the shoulder and laughed. “You had to outdo my whole ‘I am Iron Man’ thing, didn’t you?” He gave him a wink and led him back into the entryway of the school.</p><p>Peter was still stuck on the whole applause thing. </p><p>Mr. Stark had already realized what the deal was and was ready with an explanation. “Alright, kiddo, here’s the thing. We’re gonna do a really big debrief later, but from the reports we’re getting you, my dear boy, are a hero.”</p><p>Peter blinked at him in confusion. “What?”</p><p>“True story, Pete. We got the call from Ned and came right over, but some of the teachers and police were already trying to get the kids out of the classrooms via the windows. Vision, Steve, and the rest of them decided to help out while I scanned the building—which was a good thing by the way. I can’t wait to hear how he managed to find that tech again.” Tony caught himself before he got too distracted, “Anyways, by the time I figured out that the bomb was in there, May was already out here and filling us in.” Mr. Stark pressed his hand to Peter’s cheek and smiled. “She told us it was a Wednesday even though it’s a Tuesday, and said that you had a plan. We figured you wouldn’t lie to her and there were still so many kids to evacuate so...”</p><p>Peter chuckled and closed his eyes as they filled with tears. “Yeah, that’s funny. The plan, so you know, was to get May out so she wouldn’t die because of my side job.” </p><p>Mr. Stark didn’t know what to say to that, so he simply replied with a, “Huh. Well, I’m glad it all worked out in the end.”</p><p>... And then Peter laughed. It was all too ridiculous and he was so relieved and the tears kept rolling while Mr. Stark rubbed his back soothingly and let him have his moment.</p><p>When it looked like he had calmed, Mr. Stark continued. “And, kid, I don’t know what possessed you to do it, but it looks like all of the webbing you used along the doorways on the main floor provided extra stabilization to the building.” Tony looked down the hall at the remnants of his panicked attempt at protection. “If you hadn’t done it, even with whatever you did to that bomb, the building would have fallen to the ground.  You really did save every single person out there.” He pointed back to the growing crowd, then wrapped him in a hug and pressed a kiss on the top of his head. “You did so good, kid, and we’re all so proud of you.”</p><p>Peter revelled in the comfort. This all could have gone so wrong... and if it hadn’t been for—</p><p>“Toomes!” Peter startled and pulled back, “He’s in the office! And I don’t know where the office people are? How did he even get out of jail? He’s nuts! He said he was going to kill everyone and...”</p><p>Mr. Stark stopped him. “First, Vision is doing a sweep of the building ‘cause the cops are still waiting on city engineers to come and clear the building for re-entry.” Peter gave him a confused look. “What? They can’t say no to me if I don’t ask, so don’t give me that look!” Mr. Stark continued, “Second, Toomes has been in a medium security prison for the last few years. When Thanos snapped, so did Toomes apparently and he needed medical and psychiatric care so off he went. There are different protocols in place for when patients go missing in those types of facilities—but I will be making sure that changes... soon.” Mr. Stark practically growled that last part. Yeah, he was angry. “We’d only found out about him being missing this morning, but he’d been gone for more than a week and by then...”</p><p>Peter leaned into Mr. Stark again. “Well, he’s in the office, if you want him...” Peter was starting to flag. “But I think I’m ready to go home and take a nap.”</p><p>Mr. Stark smiled softly and brought Peter to his side. “Well, then, I’d suggest we make a run for the quinjet. We’ll need to wait for everyone to finish up but I’m sure you can snag a few winks while we do that.” He gave him a side hug and started them walking. “I’m guessing that May and Happy are already there.”</p><p>Relief flooded the boy. “Thanks, Mr. Stark. I appreciate that.”</p><p>Mr. Stark shrugged. “Think nothing of it... but please remember how grateful you feel when Pepper makes you schedule a press conference.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am going to do a ramble because I've earned it.</p><p>In 2015, I got sick-- like so sick and so exhausted that reading a book was impossible. I couldn't remember the names of characters or hometowns or relevant plot points. The idea of writing, like I'd been trying to do back then, was also impossible.</p><p>I'd already discovered fan fiction in 2008 but in 2015, it became a refuge. I didn't need to worry about losing track of people or places-- because I already knew everyone, and it sounds so ridiculous to someone who doesn't get it, but I am just so grateful to every author that I've ever read because I was still able to enjoy and appreciate a good story without feeling stupid or frustrated. (Don't EVER let someone tell you that fan fiction isn't "real" literature, by the way. You are all incredible!)</p><p>I promised myself that if I ever improved enough, I'd give something back.</p><p>These twenty-eight stories are my offering of thanks for six years and more.</p><p>I did it. </p><p>Day twenty-eight- xo</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>